


The Scars from Tomorrow

by mangacrack



Series: what you did in the dark [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Character Study, Destructive Behavior, Gen, Gender Issues, Original Character(s), Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-07
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 12:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangacrack/pseuds/mangacrack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I see the future and it's a catastrophe,” is what Nàmo would say. Since no asks him anyway, he doesn't volunteer what the future holds. By the time he understands, it's to late to intervene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First in Mind

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** self-discovery, serious character development, near drowning (in Chapter 9), gender issues

For Námo the creation of Arda begann different than for the rest of his brethren. He kept to himself in silence for the longest time, never one to seek the attention of others. Only Vairë enjoyed his company, since she wished to work undisturbed. She hated commentary, when she was working. 

Námo saw the events unfold, without the actors realizing he was watching. Among it the disturbance Melkor was causing. Curiosity turned into concern and unlike many others, who were eager to bring forward their opinion on it, Námo merely watched. Perhaps later he wished, he had not. 

For when the theme rose, a chord struck his being. It hurt, but the Music continued. None of the Ainur noticed their brother writhing in pain. While they enjoyed the creation of Eä, Námo felt life move within himself. 

Námo's attention wavered from the Great Music to the life inside of him - thousands of voices demanded attention in the back of his head. It caused him unimaginable pain for Eru rose in his miment and as his servant, Námo suffered internal anguish, simply by not paying attention. The Song was everything and literaly _nothing_ should should be considered important of notice. 

Therefore it was neceassary for Námo to keep quiet. Until not it had been a preference, not a requirement. But another chorus cut into his soul. Not Eru and the Ainur. 

It was Life.  
The Children. 

They were talking to him and Námo fought against the the urge to open his mouth. Eä just came into being and the childrens voices were stronger than the young world. 

Námo knew the sound Arda and the Children meeting now, would be worse than any song than had ever left Melkor's mouth. 

Námo _knew_ , he _saw_ that it would not be described as music. 

There were simply many voices unaware of each other, trying to awake on their own. The disharmony would shatter the world Eru was creating, possibly even the Ainur in the same strike. 

So for the shake of peace and out of respect for for Theme, Námo endured the power within him. It circled inside his body, searching for an outlet, but Námo spoke not. Instead he cradled the children closer to him and learned that could be something more important than Eru Ilúvater. 

It would take Ages and Agony on his part to name the feeling love.


	2. Lifeline

When the Great Music ebbed away, many Ainur and Vala feeled sadness – if they were truly capable of the emotion. Námo only dared to let out a sigh of relief. A strange sensation shifted his being. The voices of the children had fallen silent, but they still rested at their prior place.

Trembling Námo noticed, he could not endure to stand any longer. He started to retreat, not knowing how to describe or deal with the sensation that agitated him. But he was not alone with the feeling he would later know as pain, because Vairë heared him weeping tears and saw his fëa shaken, when she approached him.

Worried she sunk down next to him.

“Námo? What happened?”

She asked in apprehension, for she had never seen such a state before. Carefully Vairë touched Námo's head, searching for his face and found his dark black hair grown to an abnormal length. She had playfully applied her weaving to it before, braiding it. Now it covered his body, falling into vast space and Vairë saw no end to it.

Vairë, she heard Námo speak to her privately. When he lifted his head, hair parted to give away his cold ashen face. _I don't … I don't feel … well?_

Shocked with what she saw (suffering it was, but she knew not the name) when Námo's mind touched hers, Vairë rushed to Eru.

“Father,” she said, interrupting an audience of serveral Ainur. “Father, hurry. You must come with me.”

Vairë stopped not at grapping Ilúvater's hand to drag him with her. Thankfully such action remained without comment from Eru. He saw her worry and wondered at it. He was wise and knew the music, but the absyss was great and even he could not entirely predict its content. The Ainur had been created from himself, but their toughts were their own and some of them vanished into the vast spaces, as soon as he created them, never to be seen or heard from again.

“Vairë”, he said. “What is the reason for your disturbance?”

Not raising her voice, Vairë pointed at Námo, who's state had not improved. He was entirely silent, his hands pressed against his head and only Eru Ilúvater's arrival prompted a reaction from him.

Pale eyes met with Eru's gaze end even threatened to pierce his mind. In this instant Ilúvater knew his intention to be surprised by newly created children, had already begun. Also Eru felt the reason settle, why Námo's name always resounded as _The Judge_ in his mind. But his own degree not to be informed about his children's life and fate, prevented him from gaining access to it.

“I have yet to hear you sing, Námo,” said Eru and apporached what he thought to be the issue. “Your voice was silent during entire time. Will you not deliver your hymn to me?”

His presence gave Námo the strength to straighten up, but he still shook his head and the black hair moved with him like a living being. Still, the mouth remained closed.

Yet Námo's thoughts found their way into Eru's and Vairë's mind.

_I will not sing_ , Námo declared. _Not for a long time. Others may hear my song, but you Eru Ilúvater, shall be the last._

Silence streched between them and only Námo seemed content with it. Vairë took his arm and started to unknot the grown hair, in hope she didn't have to fill the void with words.

“Truly The Judge should not use words, if they are unnecessary,” Eru said and accepted Námo's rule.

After he had spoken, he looked to Námo first than to Vairë. “We shall meet again.”

When he turned around, Námo uttered word only Varië was able to hear: “Yes, but only once.”


	3. Crossing the Line

Eru's puzzlement of being denied an answer, forced a smile on Námo's lips. Obviously Eru wished to demand an response from him, but he could not on his on degree. Any knowledge about the First and the Secondborn had passed from him to Námo in the moment of his creation, already with the intentions carved into his mind. It would come to Ilúvater that a part of him was gone, he was not as wise as he was once. Many things depended on Námo now. 

For Vala the delevopment revealed something unexpected. While Melkor had wished for somekind of leverage against Eru, the task had passed to him. Perhaps the requierement of silence had been critical, Melkor tended to boast to much. How else would have he been able to challenge Eru Ilúvater? 

But thinking of Melkor moved the presence in his mind again. They – for the voices were to many to count – felt uncomfortable. Or they sensed his own concern about his brother. During the Creation of Eä they had been locked within him, now the newly made Arda had spread out and the Children longed for it. 

They woke the desire in Námo to desecend on Arda. 

While some of the Valar had already started to shape the World, they had volunteered to go in order to please their father. 

Despite his wishes and feelings he was the only one, who was bound to it.

Literally. His newly grown hair was connected to Arda and threats started to pull on him already. 

When Vairë joined him on the edge of his favourite viewing location, he smiled. 

_Will you join me_ , he asked and his head tilted towards Arda. 

Vairë only nodded, she did not need words to understand him, and gathered Námo's unruly hair in her hands. She knew her task just as well as any other, but her trust placed in him was unique among the Valar. She could read many things in fabric of his hair and knew it would become the source of her weavings. Right now it resembled yarn, raw and undefined. But wires she knew best and those were strong, she could read in them. 

“Of course I will,” Vairë said, declaring her loyality. “I will remain by your side.”

 _Thou are the only one_ , Námo told her, his thoughts absent and wistfully. _Perhaps forever._

“Forever is a long time.” It would not keep her from staying. “We do not know the future.”

This was the truth they would share together, no matter what the others would think. Vairë kissed Námo and stepped into Arda, following the flow of his hair. At its tail she would start weaving. 

Námo on the other hand remained for a moment. He needed it a gather courage. He wished he could contradict his wifes last sentence. 

“I see the future and it's a catastrophe”, he said to himself, thinking to be alone. 

(Of course, phrased like this it was a lie. He could only envision the future. Not draw any consequences from it that would help in the living moment.) 

Unfortunately Melkor had heard him, who prepared for his transition to Arda. His brother approached him with a dazzling smile, bright and happy. 

Melkor put his arm around his younger brother pull him in an awkward, yet well meant hug. 

“Must you be so negative?”, he asked Námo. “What is to fret about? It will be glorious.”

With his last sentence Melkor looked onto Arda with honest excitement and love. Or course he did not expect an answer from Námo and just watched at the face his mute little brother pulled. It was leved with sarcsam (yet another thing that would define Arda's ages). 

_I could tell you,Valyairë*_ , Nàmo groused, despair mixed into his fondness. _But you would not listen anyway and go your merry way._

“Damned straight. Father says I will fail.” Valyairë grinned and ruffled Námo's hair. “But I might as well fail gloriously. And with enthusiasm.”

Then Valyairë took off with a swagger in his step and Námo was the last Vala to go. The Doors of the Night would close behind him. When he finally passed through them, Námo did not turn around, knowing he would see his father and the sight of Eru would make him angry. Námo did not wish to part like this. The itch in the back of his head was bad enough already. 

Far better Námo felt, when his soul met Arda and she banished the infinite nothingness of the void. Circumstances ascertained that he didn't understand her language in his infancy, when she permitted him to call her _Mother_ . 

-

Some moments on which the future was balanced, had already been passed and would be rendered insignificant later. Other moments were yet to come, who would be remembered better than this encounter. 

Yet nothing changed the excruciating road Námo saw ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Valyairë = Devine Desire. Taken from Darth Fingon Name Generator. 'Melkor' wasn't the original name given by Eru. The Valar stopped using it after the First War, so I figured Melkor deserved his own name.
> 
> About the 'Mother' part: nearly every creation myth has a man and woman, a mother and a father. The roles are usually varied, but somehow Tolkien skipped the female figure. I took Arda as substitute (and another headcanon crawls forth!)


	4. Anatomy

Námo had been slowly crafting, creating small figures made from his hair. They variied in shape in and in size, but each unique and fair. Since he had no place to store them and created them rather on a whim than on a detailed plan, Námo often left them right there in the place where he had finished it. He wondered what his brethren thought, when they would find them. 

So far they had stayed together, only he wandered into the wilds of Arda. 

At least Aulë's and Yavanna's work spread wide. When he had started working his hair had just covered barren rock, now heavy earth pressed it together. Yavanna's determination reached the threats anyway, especially her trees shot into the sky if they found some of his hair to cling to. 

Slowly Námo learned what his hair was, but he had little idea how to proceed from here. Joining his brothers and sisters in person often tired him. They barely stopped to speak with him, since they preferd words to speak with. When they shaped he world, it demanded from them to create concepts and rules and domains. 

With a detached curiousity Námo sought out the one brethren, who felt it as much as troubling to adjust to Arda's presence than he did. Reaching the part, where Yavanna's domain ended and Aulë's hard edges fell softened towards Ulmo, Námo stepped into the blue water. The surface reflected Varda's light until Námo's body touched the water. Ripples broke the even roof of the unending water. Coldness splashed against his body and Námo shivered at the sensation. It was freezing, but he took as it natural occurrence of Ulmo's presence. 

Plants routed in the soft sand flurried against him, when he ventured deeper. Soon Varda's light was just a memory and a colorless dark fog surrounded Námo. It clung to the bottom of the sea and forced any foreign presence from Ulmo's inner sanctuary. Distant voices grew quiet and the deep abyss of the sea muted even Manwë's chanting. Námo ceased his wandering, when he noticed this. On the surface he did not think twice over the size of Manwë's domain, only its hushed presence in Ulmo's made self-evident how used he had gotten to hear Manwë singing in the background. Even from a great distance the air carried always a reminder of the Valar. 

“Have you finally found time to visit me?,” Ulmo greeted, when he gave himself a shape. 

Námo wondered if Ulmo moved through the water in this form or if he was the water. So far he preceive only a dense bulk of water in front of him, held together by green aquatic plants waving around his body. 

_It has not been so long you could you say I have been sorely missed_ , Námo defended himself. But he would admit if pressed that time was still a theoretical concept in his head. Not something he expierenced first hand. 

Enduring Ulmo's surveying look that held reproach and love in equal measure, Námo just shrugged in indifference. Yet the next question threw him off. 

Ulmo asked him, “I see you are naked? Do you prefer to present yourself in this indecent way?”

Confused Námo first stared at his brother than allowed himself to look down. 

_What do you mean with 'naked'?_ , he raised the question. _I look like I always do._

“It seems you do have missed a lot,” Ulmo said and drew his brother closer. “Let me explain.”

A long conversation followed after how the Valar had discovered that with the lighting of the Lamps, one could often see more of the spirit than some found comfortable. The light shed clarity on all things and to keep some thoughts for oneself, it was better to cover the spirit in layers of fabric. It was also easier to craft and create things this way. 

Námo did not comment that having a body would be unnecessary, if the light was removed, but since even Ulmo spoke with reverence of them, he refrained. 

_I can see the need of a physical shape_ , he finally concluded. _But what is the matter of this webbing around you?_

Before Ulmo could stop him Námo prodded at the plants. He recognized the familiar pattern, Vairë had woven it. Or at least someone had emulated her work. Námo searched Ulmo's body with his hands to see if he hid something terrible or hugly under his clothing. He only stopped, when he noticed his brother's uncomfortableness. 

Embrassed the Valar of the Waters stuttered: “Please...d-don't do this again.”

Ulmo put some distance between them, determined not to touched again. 

Námo remained on his spot, even if he would have liked to see what had send Ulmo in such a disheveled state. 

_Why?_

Obviously Ulmo tried to explain. In the end he chose to say: “It's indecent. Private. Intimate. One more reason why we wear clothes now.“ 

_Ah. I will not do it again_ , Námo promised. To annoy Ulmo he added, _Unless you ask of course._

Ulmo choked on his words and chose to bury himself in the endless chasm of his waters. He hoped he wouldn't have to confront Námo anytime soon and someone else would educate his brother further. 

Námo on the other hand returned to the beach and when he broke through the surface, he reflected on how to cloth himself. In the end, he simply wrapped his ever growing hair around himself and now no one but his wife could tell the difference. 

A black cloak follow him now, to heavy to flutter in the wind and yet it moved on its own accord. Sometimes it would provide a hood and then not even Varda's star-eyes could locate him. 

Unseen by anyone alive Námo took up his wandering again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *moans in pain*
> 
> It's hard to write in english in the first place and I delve into the part, where Námo is too young to comprehend certain concepts of the world. But I wanted to, since I felt I couldn't directly compare the Valar with Elves and the differences had to be written out.
> 
> It still would have been easier just to post pictures. Yet I'm proud of Námo's development. I wants it to be confusing for some Ainur to have body. Námo fondling Ulmo's private parts was something I honestly couldn't resist.


	5. Down the River

Námo had been slowly crafting, creating small figures made from his hair. They variied in shape in and in size, but each unique and fair. Since he had no place to store them and created them rather on a whim than on a detailed plan, Námo often left them right there in the place where he had finished it. He wondered what his brethren thought, when they would find them.

So far they had stayed together, only he wandered into the wilds of Arda.

At least Aulë's and Yavanna's work spread wide. When he had started working his hair had just covered barren rock, now heavy earth pressed it together. Yavanna's determination reached the threats anyway, especially her trees shot into the sky if they found some of his hair to cling to.

Slowly Námo learned what his hair was, but he had little idea how to proceed from here. Joining his brothers and sisters in person often tired him. They barely stopped to speak with him, since they preferd words to speak with. When they shaped he world, it demanded from them to create concepts and rules and domains.

With a detached curiousity Námo sought out the one brethren, who felt it as much as troubling to adjust to Arda's presence than he did. Reaching the part, where Yavanna's domain ended and Aulë's hard edges fell softened towards Ulmo, Námo stepped into the blue water. The surface reflected Varda's light until Námo's body touched the water. Ripples broke the even roof of the unending water. Coldness splashed against his body and Námo shivered at the sensation. It was freezing, but he took as it natural occurrence of Ulmo's presence.

Plants routed in the soft sand flurried against him, when he ventured deeper. Soon Varda's light was just a memory and a colorless dark fog surrounded Námo. It clung to the bottom of the sea and forced any foreign presence from Ulmo's inner sanctuary. Distant voices grew quiet and the deep abyss of the sea muted even Manwë's chanting. Námo ceased his wandering, when he noticed this. On the surface he did not think twice over the size of Manwë's domain, only its hushed presence in Ulmo's made self-evident how used he had gotten to hear Manwë singing in the background. Even from a great distance the air carried always a reminder of the Valar.

“Have you finally found time to visit me?,” Ulmo greeted, when he gave himself a shape.

Námo wondered if Ulmo moved through the water in this form or if he was the water. So far he preceive only a dense bulk of water in front of him, held together by green aquatic plants waving around his body.

_It has not been so long you could you say I have been sorely missed_ , Námo defended himself. But he would admit if pressed that time was still a theoretical concept in his head. Not something he expierenced first hand.

Enduring Ulmo's surveying look that held reproach and love in equal measure, Námo just shrugged in indifference. Yet the next question threw him off.

Ulmo asked him, “I see you are naked? Do you prefer to present yourself in this indecent way?”

Confused Námo first stared at his brother than allowed himself to look down.

_What do you mean with 'naked'?_ , he raised the question. _I look like I always do._

“It seems you do have missed a lot,” Ulmo said and drew his brother closer. “Let me explain.”

A long conversation followed after how the Valar had discovered that with the lighting of the Lamps, one could often see more of the spirit than some found comfortable. The light shed clarity on all things and to keep some thoughts for oneself, it was better to cover the spirit in layers of fabric. It was also easier to craft and create things this way.

Námo did not comment that having a body would be unnecessary, if the light was removed, but since even Ulmo spoke with reverence of them, he refrained.

_I can see the need of a physical shape_ , he finally concluded. _But what is the matter of this webbing around you?_

Before Ulmo could stop him Námo prodded at the plants. He recognized the familiar pattern, Vairë had woven it. Or at least someone had emulated her work. Námo searched Ulmo's body with his hands to see if he hid something terrible or hugly under his clothing. He only stopped, when he noticed his brother's uncomfortableness.

Embrassed the Valar of the Waters stuttered: “Please...d-don't do this again.”

Ulmo put some distance between them, determined not to touched again.

Námo remained on his spot, even if he would have liked to see what had send Ulmo in such a disheveled state.

_Why?_

Obviously Ulmo tried to explain. In the end he chose to say: “It's indecent. Private. Intimate. One more reason why we wear clothes now.“

_Ah. I will not do it again_ , Námo promised. To annoy Ulmo he added, _Unless you ask of course._

Ulmo choked on his words and chose to bury himself in the endless chasm of his waters. He hoped he wouldn't have to confront Námo anytime soon and someone else would educate his brother further.

Námo on the other hand returned to the beach and when he broke through the surface, he reflected on how to cloth himself. In the end, he simply wrapped his ever growing hair around himself and new no one but his wife could tell the difference.

A black cloak follow him now, to heavy to flutter in the wind and yet it moved on its own accord. Sometimes it would provide a hood and then not even Varda's star-eyes could locate him.

Unseen by anyone alive Námo took up his wandering again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *moans in pain*
> 
> It's hard to write in english in the first place and I delve into the part, where Námo is too young to comprehend certain concepts of the world. But I wanted to, since I felt I couldn't directly compare the Valar with Elves and the differences had to be written out.
> 
> It still would have been easier just to post pictures. Yet I'm proud of Námo's development. I wants it to be confusing for some Ainur to have body. Námo fondling Ulmo's private parts was something I honestly couldn't resist.


	6. Dreams and Fantasy

Ulmo's complaining about his long absence had convinced Námo to pay more attention to his brethren. Of course they seemed all terribly busy, which was natural. But Námo wondered, if it was right that each of the Valar spend the alone. Before they had descended on Arda, gatherings had been a common occurrence.

How was it possible that no one missed them now? Close company was rare in these times.

Driven by a feeling of loneliness, Námo reached out for the one being, he had never trouble to find. Without bothering to walk the distance physically, Námo opened his mind and connected his spirit with Irmo's.

Moments later colors, laughing and swriling around his body greeted Námo. They pulled had his cloak with thousand tiny hands and dragged him to the center. Amused that thoughts, spirits and Ainur alike begged for his presence, he entered Irmo's realm with ease.

A colorful scenery greeted him that surpassed anything that Námo had seen in Arda so far.

Streams danced around his feet, while they carried plants and fish, who held a never ending contest of the highest and the most arcobatic jump. In another corner the grass had decided to climb a tree and had grown so big, they were hugging now. Not to mention all the flowers, who had decided the ground was boring and now stuck to every available surface. Some stuck to rocks and others grew incredibly tall, so they surpassed even Námo's height. Some of them even had placed themselves on top of the trees, not at all satisfied with the fact that trees were supposed to be taller and mightier.

Apparently in Irmo's vicinity any kind of life was affected by his brother's high spirited nature one way or another.

Like always, Irmo left a chaotic path of mayhem in his wake. While Ulmo or Yavanna liked to create, Irmo tended to affect the creations left to fend for themselves, when a Vala was done.

While this place was not deep or meaningful like Ulmo to kept his, Námo prefered Lórien. He smiled, when a creature with wings and scales, barely bigger than his hand, flew to him and started to poke with its long and pointy tail.

“I'm fire,” it said and stared at Námo, expecting an answer to his challenge. “I'm fire, fire. Fire!”

Námo raised an eyebrow, while the little creature startet to spit little flames.

“Don't let him bother you,” Irmo told him, when he walked up to his brother and discovered the tiny dragon. “He will grow bored soon and retreat to his cave.”

_What is he?,_ Námo asked. 

_A dragon_ , the Vala of Dreams answered, switching to the way of communication Námo found easiest to use.  _Valyairë made him. She had an odd sense of humor and taught him speech._

_She made something that talks back to her?_ , Námo couldn't help but ask.  _Isn't she aware that her creations are extensions from her?_

Irmo's laughed at that remark and shruggged. It was very like her sister to argue with herself. Even if he had the sinking feeling that the lizard wasn't connected with Valyairë anymore. The create formed words and had shown signs of intelligence, especially when it was hungry it became quite crafty in getting what it wanted. It always glanced so innocently at Irmo, when it destroyed another animal to devour it's flesh.

Would Námo asked why he harboured the little creature in his realm, Irmo would have to admit he was puzzled. He wondered too much about the flying lizard to let it go for now. As long as it was content to flutter around in his realm, Irmo would study it.

Unlike his other visitors, who were oddly shaped or just colorfull enough to draw his attention, the little lizard – drakón it had been named – woke curiousity in him. Were the wings a tribut to Manwe or just a sign of self-determination?

Irmo did not understand what independence meant yet, but just like him Námo noticed its existence. Later they would mourn how they had missed a chance to communicate with their sister-brother. How carelessly they had overlooked the drakóns intelligence and ability to speak just because Valyairë had not dubbed they Children of Eru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or: How Smaug became relevant in my worldbuilding Headcanon surrounding the Valar. 
> 
> I'm not ashamed to admit that I love dragons and I have always mourned that there are _just_ evil in the Silmarillion, despite their intelligence. So I made the dragons a rather early creation of Melkor and one, which is the most innocent. All other creatures Morgoth is responsible for are more horribile (read: Balrogs, Orc's etc.) Dragon on the other hand are just the way they are and the disturbance they cause stirr from their difficulty to co-exist with “other Children.” 
> 
> Since I have been greatly influenced by Paolini's “Inheritance Cycle” when it comes to dragons, you may find traces of crossovers in the future chapters. But since it's just toying with What-if's anyway, you can safely ignore it.


	7. The Image of Perfection

Valyairë was grinning in exitment. She had found an empty place, far away from Yavanna's greenery and danced over the Earth until it heated up and fire rose from the ground. She dabbled her feet into it as if it were water, her toes wriggling in lava like normal people would in mud. Her joy shook the earth further until it trembled and burst. Rocks flew in all directions and defined gravity for once, when pressure from the deep caused them to invade even Manwë's territory.   
  
“Watch this, brother,” she shouted into the sky, when she swirled around in circles.  
  
All the spinning should have made her dizzy, instead Valyairë found a rhythm deeper than the songs she usually sang with her brethern.  
  
There was only delight in her soul, when she melted stone to a hot and very liquid substance.  
  
She continued to dance on like this until someone joined her. Valyairë was surprised when Nessa's feet stomped onto the ground, following her rhythm.  
  
“This is great work,” Nessa said with a smile and grasped her sisters hand.  
  
Together they swirled around, raising dust and fire. While Nessa was the better dancer and kept time how to place their feet, Valyairë dragged them beneath the surface where they had the freedom to move the earth as they wished. For a long time they carried on like this only their laughter interrupting the grumbling layers deep under the earth.  
  
It was Nessa who picked up the conversation again.  
  
“We are being watched,” she said, glancing sideways.  
  
Valyairë followed the direction. Aulë was frowning, perhaps because she made mess of his work but her brother wasn't actually angry. Even from this distance he looked interested how easily his sisters moved materials that he had so much trouble reshape on the surface.  
  
“Well, Aulë is not here because of us, but Tulkas is definitely watching you,” Valyairë answered and grinned when Nessa blushed.  
  
“Shut up,” her younger sibling hissed.  
  
“There's nothing wrong with enjoying each other company,” Valvairë said and put her hands on Nessa's hips. “And before you ask, it's obvious how much he adores you.”  
  
“Is this why Ulmo has always an eye on you?” Nessa was not above teasing her sister and moved their dance way from solid earth and closer to waters, where vulcano's bubbled at the bottom of the sea.  
  
Valyairë sombered. Of course she could feel Ulmo's eyes on her.  
  
“He refused to talk to me,” Valyairë whispered quietly and finally slowed her steps. “Whenever I try to approach him, he flees. I doubt he has even acknowleged his feelings for me. If he isn't still in denial about being able to feel at all.”  
  
The last words were spoken with bitterness and Nessa felt for her sister. For her and Tulkas it was easy to spend time together, but apparently Valyairë had no such luck. Although it was obvious for anyone who cared that the oldest Valië felt deeply for Ulmo.  
  
“He will come around,” Nessa assured and hugged her sister. “Look how Námo has opened up. We thought him lost for centuries when he walked between the shadows and now he's teaching the Ainur how to take and shape their bodies.”  
  
“I know,” Valyairë mumbled, but she wasn't convinced.  
  
Námo had always taken his own path and since he had full support of his wife, she never worried about him. No, in fact Námo was perhaps the most independent creature among her siblings. Ulmo on the other hand … Valyairë cast a hopeful glance in the direction of her lover, but her heart nearly burst into pieces when she found him gone.  
  
With a sigh Valyairë retreated back into her domian, leaving Nessa with Tulkas and swallowed her envy when she saw how easily he responded to Nessa's touches.  
  
Ulmo would only recoil if she tried to do the same and Valyairë despaired. She was the fire beneath the surface. She moved the earth because she refused to submit to it. Her desire would not wane, but doubt grew in her heart that she could love a person, who refused to do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my answer to the long burning question of mine why Ulmo isn't married. Since I go with the version that Eru did not intend for Melkor to wreck Arda, I had to create a reason why he/she went down the dark path in the first place.
> 
> Soon I will get to the part where Valyairë becomes Melkor and … yeah, it's not going to be nice. Nothing is, which is why it took me so long to write this part.
> 
> The chapter title refers to the fact that Eru created Melkor first and most likely after his own image.


	8. Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll mention here that I have never seen Arda as a flat world. It is round and Valyairë's/Melkor's domain is the Earth Core.  
> For the next chapter we finally turn towards Ulmo.
> 
> Regarding Smaug and Ancalagon. Smaug was there first, but is of a different design. The first attempt so to speak.

Time passes by and slowly a pattern emerges among the Valar. They start to work in pairs and often they are seen smiling, when a joint project is finished and the Ainur praise the wonders the Valar create. Often they run around, bouncing and laughing, to explore the world.   
  
All are happy, but only one has stopped smiling.   
  
Valyairë was rarely seen anymore. She had retreat to her domain. Only Aulë saw her regularly, when she took a bath in her lava pools. Unfortunately she rejected his attempts to work with her and soon her dark mood kept Aulë from asking again and turned towards Yavanna instead. Had the lavapools not been underground but under the open sky perhaps Varda would have witnessed the fading friendship and intervened perhaps.   
  
Instead Valyairë sunk so deep into the fires even the other Valar had trouble to distinguish her in the hottest parts she had retreated to. Among the Ainur Yalyairë turned into a legend, an unexplained mystery.   
  
Finally Manwë tasked Aulë to invite their sister to the festival they planned for Ossë's and Uinen's union. Aulë had protested that their sister wished to be left alone, but Manwë believed it would be good for Valyairë.   
  
Aulë still doubted the wisdom of it when he descended into the innermost mantel of the earth. In the lower parts the heat rose and after when he went past his own borders, he called for Námo and Irmo.   
  
When they stepped forth, he greeted them with a small bow.   
  
“I'm grateful of your help,” he said. “Without you I would not be capable for finding our sister.”  
  
Irmo nodded and threw a look towards the molten rock. When he stepped closer to inspect it, Námo stopped him.   
  
_It would be unwise to touch it_ , he warned. _This fire is hotter than anything you have ever experienced._  
  
Aulë nodded in agreement.   
  
“No one lives down here. Even the strongest spirits succumb to the heat. I'm the only one who can come close enough to spot our sister on occasion. Mostly I just feel her wrath in waves, when her anger sends fire through my walls.”  
  
And even then it was not a conversation they held. Aulë only noticed the vibrations and disruptions.   
  
“Thankfully our corpus is less affected by the physical world,” Irmo said, turning translucent and stepped into the fire.   
  
Yet he hissed, when he made contact with it. It felt highly uncomfortable. Námo followed him and if he had the same trouble he showed no sign of it. Instead he mentioned something else to the other Fëanturi while they searched for their sister.   
  
_The last time I felt a fire this hot was when I touched the Flame Imperishable_ , Námo mentioned.   
  
Irmo swirled around to face his brother. Shock was written on his face.   
  
_You have seen it_ , he send his thoughts since normal speech had become impossible.   
  
Námo hummed in response.   
  
_I have_ , he said without offering an explanation. _This shows a great resemblance._  
  
Before Irmo could question Námo further a shadow forced them stop at their path. A creature crossed they way. It was huge, covered with scales and swam by without paying attention to the visitors. It used its pranks to move foreward and controlled the flow of direction with its tail.   
  
_Something manages to acutally live here_ , Irmo wondered. _I wonder what it is to have such resistance against the heat. It must be a mighty creature._  
  
“It is indeed,” Valyairë's voice suddenly sounded through them. A moment later a red figure emerged from the fires. Lava ran down the body like water until it revealed Valyairë's appealing form beneath it.   
  
She stood in front of her brothers, naked and with her hands on her hips.   
  
“What you saw was a dragon. You have seen them before albeit in much smaller form. The most common one you named lizard.” Pointing at the creature in the distance, she explained, “This is Ancalagon. The first of his kind.”   
  
Námo noted the pride in Valyairë's voice.   
  
_He is magnificent, but how does he exist here_ , he asked. _What does he eat?_  
  
Long ago Námo learned that every living being had to eat.   
  
Valyairë shrugged.   
  
“I'm not sure. He drinks lava mostly. Sometimes he swims to the outer surface and steals Aulë's rocks. I guess he eats them,” she said.   
  
_Why have you not shown him to us_ , Irmo asked. _We would have welcomed him._  
  
“Didn't feel like it,” Valyairë mumbled. “Besides I'm not sure if he can leave this place. Outside of my realm the tempatures drop significantly. It would certainly affect him.”   
  
_You could still come and introduce him to us. We could find a way to create a window, so that our siblings may see him_ , Irmo offered, sensing an opportunity. _Perhaps we even find a solution to protect him against the cold. There's a upcoming festival where everyone would be present._  
  
“I'll think about out,” Valyairë said and watched her brothers leave, seemingly satisfied with her answer.   
  
Yet Valyairë was torn. On one hand she was suspicious and hestiated to return. Yet Ancalagon was her first great success. He even showed signs of intelligence. If all went well, she could start to teach him soon.   
  
If her brothers and sisters truly helped, Ancalagon would no longer be trapped in the place of his birth. She knew he was content, but deep in her heart she dreamed about of showing him the outside world.   
  
Especially the oceans. Ancalagon had never seen the colour blue before.


	9. Snow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: near drowning.

Returning to the surface world was difficult for Valyairë. She had no clue how long she had been immerged in the ground and everything looked different, when she finally climbed out of a volcano. Bright stars greeted her and Valyairë took a moment to study the new constellations. There were many too many to count at such short notice.

Pride swelled in her chest.

“Well done, little sister,” Valyairë offered Varda her praise.

Last she time she walked beneath the sky there were only a few star to be seen. Producing a sea of them must have been difficult. Surely Varda's strength had grown. Did Manwë how alike Valyairë's and Varda's powers were?

 _Fire beneath my feet. Fire above my head_ , Valyairë's hummed in pleasure.

Perhaps it had not been too bad to wait for some time. It had been a while since she had been in mood to explore. Yet she felt mostly dread when she reached the beach. Behind the sea waited the island Manwë and Varda had chosen to reside on. In order to reach it, she had to cross the ocean.

Valyairë shivered when cold water touched her bare feet. Quickly she retreated to the dry parts. On land she felt safe. Had she always been this vulnerable to water? Valyairë wondered if this was just another change.

“I still need help to get across the ocean,” she said to herself. Her feet were far too rooted into the ground. All the molten rock still clung to her and weighted her down too much. She could not turn herself into a flimsy spark and simply fly distance.

The easiest solution was right in front of her, but would Ulmo come if called? He never welcomed her approaches and one day she simply stopped trying.

 _Brother_ , she send her voice out into the sea. _Brother will safely escort me through your domain?_

No answer came. Valyairë waited and tried again, but just as before Ulmo and his waters stayed silent. Rejection burned the way into her heart, again. But Valyairë reasoned perhaps Ulmo was too far away to hear her calls. Maybe she simply needed to get deeper. Slowly Valyairë stepped back into the water. The odd and ugly feeling returned, but she told herself she would bear it. This was harmless water and she was just not accustomed to it. But with every step she took into the water, she sunk deeper. Sand pulled at her ankles, pulled her down until the surface closed above her head.

It took Valyairë three heartbeats to realize she needed to get out. Light broke on the surface of the water, creating strange images in her head, accompanied by a fuzzy feeling. In her rising panic, Valyairë lost all sense of direction and her struggling pulled her deeper into the sand and reaching for the resting beneath her fingertips only tied her closer to ground, since her own domain waited beneath it.

 _Help me_ , she pleaded to the Lord of the Waters, _Ulmo. Please, help me._

However the Valar was not there, because he had already joined the feast on Valinor. He could neither answer now her Valyairë's desperate calling.

It took long, lonely minutes until Valyairë realized no aid would come. Her desperation grew, her kicking and struggling brought little success and finally she entered a state of mind, in which she cared little about the of Ulmo's realm. What use were his small fishes, his colorful plants and other strange creatures if he would let her drown?

Calling her power to her, Valyairë opened her mouth and _screamed_.

Her voice was not beautiful. The Valië was well aware how much discomfort she could bring others with it and long she had learned to sing alone. She didn't perform in public, never in front of a crowd. Indeed she sounded rough and hoarse, but the effect was instant. Valyairë was Eru's oldest child and the most knowledgeable. She had heard of all the song during the Great Music and listened carefully after she decided not to perform again.

The water was shoved away under power erupting from the throat like a volcano and Valyairë broke free after long agonize minutes. Gasping for air, she crawled back onto the beach and further until she reached higher ground. Yet she could not help, but look back. Just in time she turned her head, to see how the waves smoothed out until the water laid motionless in front of her.

As if nothing had happened.

Horrified Valyairë realized, _It would've swallowed me. Ulmo would've let me drown here, never to emerge again._

The thought overwhelmed her and hours passed before she stopped shaking. In the end her fear only dimished, because she drew as much heat to her as possible. Fire kept her warm and comforted. Long Valyairë sat at the beach and did not notice what effect she had on the landscape until she raised her head and saw white in front of her.

Water had turned into solid ice, rain into snow and it covered the entire horizon. Life on land had been buried under the falling snow and even Ulmo's ocean had frozen.

Hugging herself, Valyairë sat one foot in front of the other. The ice held her weight. She could reach Valinor like this. With her teeth shattering, the Valië made her way to the feast. Her call for aid, her abyssal black despair she suppressed, but the knowledge of Ulmo's rejection remained close to her mind.

Drawing all heat to her, Valyairë's sucked all warmth from the atmosphere. Storms grew at the horizon and coldness spread when the oldest Valië marched on and later not even Ulmo was at loss how turn the snow back into water. In the end Manwë would order to leave the ice there were it was. It harmed no one, it was impossible to use for anyone but their eldest sister and not even the bravest Maia dared to cross the Ice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Valyairë created the Helcaraxë. No, she cannot fly. She is powerful, but it's not in her abilties and yes, therefore Melkor used the path again when he left Valinor.
> 
> Epic justice. Irony. Whatever. How could I resist?


	10. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look what one more free day can do to you. Time to write. Ha! But I've also discovered I've enough idea's to keep me busy the next four years, not counting fluffy oneshots and porn. Or my regular discussion / debates with [Encairion.](http://efiction.esteliel.de/viewuser.php?uid=113)

 Ulmo is Lord of Waters. He is alone.** Usually.

For Ossë's and Uinen's union only he has clothes himself in a body, as uncomfortable as it makes him. He has chosen a table near the shore since he dislikes the distance to the ocean but for the duration of the festival he will endure. His two Maia are far to joyful, Ulmo couldn't deny their honest request and even now they wink at him every time they catch his gaze.

Why so he gets the feeling they are trying to please him? His power reaches far, but normally he stays invisible. Are they not used to seeing him in person?

Ulmo wonders until Manwë sits down next to him and the Valar of the Waters smiles. Today they truly look like brothers, with Manwë's hair white like the clouds above and his own silver like starlight reflected on the surface of the ocean. Judging by Manwë's smile, he is not the only one who realizes the likeness they share today.

“I hope you're content, my dear brother,” Manwë tells him and grasps his hand.

Ulmo can't help but shudder. Touch is a foreign sensation he has yet to get used to. All others seem to enjoy it, so Ulmo just swallows and waits for the day the impression brings pleasure.

“I'm pleased to spend my time among you,” Ulmo answers with honesty. Despite his uncomfortableness in a crowd, he cannot deny he enjoys seeing so many happy faces.

Hopefully he would find easier one day to hold a conversation. Manwë was his dearest brother and still he didn't know what to say to him. Would his brother be interested in hearing about the pitch black darkness at the bottom of the sea? Before he could ask, a shift in the weather caused him to look North.

Manwë has well had noticed the change, like many others and very single one of them were surprised to see the red-haired figure had the horizon. Immediately nausea filled Ulmo's mouth. He wished to run towards the water where he would be safe. Yet his body was frozen, breathlessness and panic strapped him to the bench he sat on. Despite his dry mouth, Ulmo didn't reach for his drink.

Instead his eyes were glued to Valyairë. Just like Manwë he couldn't take his eyes off her, taking in her form. How long had been since he had last seen her? An eternity it seemed and Ulmo's heart started to beat against his chest and the blood in his veins ran faster.

“She's magnificent,” Ulmo dared to whisper aloud.

Manwë's worried look he didn't notice. Instead Ulmo concentrated on the full breasts, the wide hips and the long, red hair. All propriety forgotten the Lord of Waters stared, first time feeling arousal in his life. Perhaps he had been more subtle, had Valyairë not dressed herself molten lava, showing naked skin every time the baked crust broke. But this was only a small part covering her body, from her waist to her knees only. The stomach was free, similar to her shoulders.

It took Ulmo and the rest of the crowd a few seconds to realize only it was scales which covered Valyairë's breasts.

“Sister,” Varda voice's broke the stunned silence and she stormed forward to pull her friend into a hug. “I'm so glad to see you. It's been so long I saw you last, I fear you would miss this feast as well.”

Valyairë answered with a wide grin and swirled Varda around.

“After I received a personal invitation?” she teased and spared Námo a glance. “How could I stay away?”

As far as anyone could see, the Fëanturi's lips twitched slightly.

Ulmo had yet to move a muscle and when he finally turned his head make a comment to Manwë, he found him gone. Blinking heavily confused, he found him right next to Varda. Unlike the sisters greeting, Manwë and Valyairë stayed mostly quiet. They only looked gazes and smiled as if they shared a secret.

Suddenly Ulmo's distress transformed into something ugly, something bitter. When hands closed around wrist, Ulmo only desired to rip Manwë away to throw him into the ocean. However because of the turmoil Valyairë caused inside of him, Ulmo refused to act on his new feelings. Too wild, too unfamiliar for him and too afraid Ulmo was were the journey would lead him, if he traveled down this path now.

So everything what passed between Ulmo and Valyairë was nothing but a short glance, in which their eye color darkened. Hers blackened in anger and his lost their hue for a moment. Then Valyairë turned away sit between Manwë and Varda and for the entire time of the feast, she refused to spare Ulmo another glance.

Later no one could tell when the Valar of the Waters had left. Valyairë might've, but she bit her tongue until it bled. Dancing with Ossë had been fun, she revelled in his forceful personality and his uncontrolled nature. Flirting with him, running her hands along his sides and placing a kiss on his lips was meant as gift for the Maia and a taunt for his Lord.

But all she saw of Ulmo's reaction was his retreating back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are so many things going awry in this chapter. I intended to keep this smut-free at first but perhaps I'll still write some Valyairë/Ulmo and Ossë/Valyairë. Should I? With Valyairë I could even make it slash instead of het (or both). Even though I feel bad for setting a virgin, baby Valar with someone like Valyairë. She would be taking advantage, but Melkor's creation did involve the rape of Arien. So I think I need to explore this a bit more.
> 
> On the other hand … Ulmo creates enough damage alone, he doesn't need Valyairë to do it for him.
> 
> And yeah, I imagined Valyairë having dragonskin at this point. Not everywhere, but enough to be noticed.
> 
> **Taken directly from the Silmarillion. These two sentences are partly to blame for this story and entirely responsible how I shifted from Manwe/Melkor to Melkor/Ulmo.


End file.
